Sister of the Thief
by afandjegudiel
Summary: Niwa Ayaka is the daughter of the second Phantom Thief Dark. As such, she has rules she must obey. But, when she falls for the latest Hikari boy, which will she choose? Her family's rules, or her own heart?
1. Chapter 1

Sister of the Thief

Rated: M

Disclaimer: The characters are mine, but the story it's based on is not!

Long swathes of luscious red, bright fields of choice green, water of three colors blue. Art was all that Hikari Kaito ever thought about. It was in his dreams, his language, and his step. Every move was another stroke. The way he ate his food, picking grain after grain of rice until it had just the right shape, swirling the noodles in his bowl into long arcs and loops. But, when he actually shaped his art, when he picked up his tools and carved, or his brushes and painted, that was the real art. Just watching him work was enough to make Niwa Ayaka dizzy.

She knew she wasn't supposed to be here. She knew that the Hikaris were the sworn enemies of her family. But, she just couldn't draw her gaze away from him everyday. The way he moved the brush, in those long, lazy arcs, and rough, quick jabs. Every picture came out perfect. When his chisel cut through the wood, carving knobs and arms, scales and horns, smooth cheeks and soft lips. Oh, god, his works looked so real.

It's because there's something horribly wrong with them, she reminded herself. The Hikaris are too perfect in their skill. They put too much of themselves in their art. They care for nothing else. He cares nothing for you.

Even wit this thought in her mind, she couldn't stop herself from running to his garden every morning, hiding in his rose bushes until noon, watching his every move. She followed his arm around the canvas as he penned a charcoal Sparrow. Every motion was deliberate, and had power, soft or hard. He was the real artwork, she decided. He could never make anything as perfect as the way she saw him.

"Ayaka!" Came a whispered voice. Her heart skipped a beat. The voice was familiar. It was very familiar. In fact, it was almost exactly like her own, if not a few octaves deeper. She turned around slowly, looking over her shoulder, hoping that it wasn't who she thought it was. It was. Her older twin, Niwa Shou, peering in through the hedge. He gave her a stern look, before jerking his thumb backward and tugging his head out of the foliage. She sighed, and took one last look at Kaito, before following her brother through the bush.

By the time Ayaka had broken through, Shou was already halfway down the alley.

"Brother, wait!" She called, running after him.

"No, Ayaka, this is just too much. What were you doing there? No, don't answer that, I already know."

"Well, what were you doing there?" Ayaka asked her brother, finally catching up to him.

"My job, Ayaka." Shou said, whirling around on her. "I'm the Phantom Thief. I was checking the place out. The Hikaris have some very dangerous art in there, and as the third Phantom Thief Dark, I have to uphold the tradition that Father and Grand-Father set down. And, as the daughter of the second Phantom Thief Dark, you cannot lust after our sworn enemies son."

"What harm can it do? He's just a boy--"

"He's a Hikari." Shou interrupted. "Everything he makes draws his curse into itself. He is a walking plague, making new monsters everyday, and you are to have nothing more to do with him."

"But,--"

"I won't tell Father this time, but this is it. If I ever catch you here again, I'll let him tan your hide."


	2. Chapter 2

Sister of the Thief

Rated: M

Disclaimer: The characters are mine, but the story it's based on is not!

Ayaka paced around her room. It was early, before dawn, and she hadn't slept all night. She had been thinking about what her brother had said, trying to convince herself that he knew what was best for her. She was trying to convince herself not to go back to the Hikari boy's garden.

The more she thought about it, however, the more she felt that strange pull, that unexplainable attraction toward him. She tried to close him out of her mind, but there would be none of that. The harder she tried, the more she remembered about him. She remembered the beautiful carving of a horse that he had finished. It was the first time she had ever laid eyes on him.



It had been hot that day, and she was carrying home fruit for her family. Wiz was on her shoulder, chewing on a stray strawberry. Wiz, it was almost as if he was the cause of the whole thing. It was when he decided to dive in for another helping of fruit that everything in the basket came tumbling out.

"Wiz! Look what you've done!" Ayaka said, dropping to her knees quickly. "Quick, help me pick up all this fruit. That's what you get for being greedy."

The fruit was scattered everywhere, and Wiz was no help at all. Ayaka had ended up picking it all up on her own. She pressed her face to the ground, looking for any berries she might have missed. It was then that she noticed two particularly fat ones still hiding under the hedges across the street.

"Stay with the basket, and don't eat any more, or you won't have any to eat later." Ayaka said to Wiz as she stood up and crossed the street. Once there, she kneeled down again to reach for the berries. They were too far out of reach for her, and so she leaned in a bit. When she still couldn't reach them, she leaned in more, and more, and still more. Suddenly, she heard a snapping sound. A moment later, the branch she had been leaning against broke, sending her tumbling out on the other side of the hedge.

Her head was spinning, and she lay there for a moment to get her bearings. When she sat up, her eyes widened. Just ten feet away was a tiled floor, where a boy was carving into a hunk of cedar wood with fierce intent. His chest was bare, his shirt open and laying upon his pants. He was sweating, but that seemed to only make him more alluring. He was muscular, but lean, she noticed as he swept his chisel along the wood. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

Slowly, the wood began to take on a shape other than a mottled hunk. Legs began to form, a back, a tail. Its front legs were raised in the air, it's head thrown to the side, it's mane swept up into the air. It was a powerful image, a stallion, wild and free. With a precision tool, he traced in all the details. The curves of each hair, the outline of the iris in the eye. And, what's better, every detail was perfect. Ayaka was awed by the horse, entranced by it's beauty. She could see it clearly in the wild, running in long, green pastures. She felt overpowered by it, and she couldn't move for fear of losing its vision. She couldn't move for fear of losing sight of it's visionary.

When he put down his tools and wrapped them, Ayaka realized how much trouble she would be in. The sky had darkened enough that the boy had been carving by lamplight. When she was sure his back was turned, she scrambled to her feet and ran to the hedge. Just before parting the leaves, she snuck one look back at him.

His eyes were turned to her, fixed on her. She panicked, and dove through the bushes.

"Wait!" She heard him call, but she was gone across the street. She snatched up the empty basket of strawberries, Wiz and all, and bolted down the street, back to her own garden.



Ayaka remembered the day so perfectly; it had almost been like she had been there again. She turned her head to look out her window once more. The sky was growing to a pinkish color, the perfect time to go if she wanted to see him again. Without a second's hesitation, she ran to her door, opened it with precision, and sped down the stairs. Then, she was off the staircase, across the hall, out the door, and into the street.

There was no traffic this early in the morning, so she could run as fast as she could, on whatever route she wanted without fear. Her lungs were starting to burn, her legs to ache, but she was getting there. She was already on his street. She touched the hedge and took a breather.

Every mouthful of air cooled her insides, and helped to slow her heartbeat. She knew she would never go unnoticed unless she stopped breathing so hard. With her chest finally settled, she stooped down and crawled beneath the bushes.

The boy sat on his pillow, scribbling in a book of canvas pages. He had a determined look, his eyebrows furrowed, and sweat running down his temples like never before. He set his charcoal pencil down and looked at whatever he was drawing, looked dissatisfied, and cast the book across the patio. A few seconds later, he moved from his bed to the pillar the book rested beside, and took it back to it's resting place on his nightstand.

The door at the end of the patio slid opened, and a kneeling figure in green robes was seen with a tray in hand.

"Master Riku! I was just coming to wake you, but I see that you are already up."

"Yes, Ryouta, I have been having more and more trouble sleeping." Said the boy, who Ayaka now knew to be Riku.

"Yes, well, here are some hot towels, sir, and breakfast is almost ready to be served." Ryouta said, placing the tray just inside the door.

"Thank you, Ryouta," Riku said, walking over to the towels. "That will be all."

Ryouta slid the door shut and Riku took the towels to his bedside to bathe. As much as Ayaka wished to stay, she moved back out of the bushes and began to walk home. She didn't get to see much artwork today, but she had gleaned some valuable information. His name was Riku. Hikari Riku.


End file.
